


we all become

by PinkHydrangea



Category: Fire Emblem Echoes: Mou Hitori no Eiyuu Ou | Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia
Genre: F/M, Transistor AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2019-03-27 23:41:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13891590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkHydrangea/pseuds/PinkHydrangea
Summary: They're just a lady without a voice and a gent without a body. // Transistor AU, for Sam/dragontamer75 on tumblr





	we all become

**Author's Note:**

> SAM ASKED FOR 1500 WORDS AND THIS WENT WAY OVER, sorry... but i wuv Sam so im making it like a full au and i'll add the rest at a later point, i just have other things to do and work is busy... ANYWAY, Transistor is a fantastic game, i'm pretty sure it's available on mobile if anyone wants to try it, and if you just want the story, you can find story cuts on YouTube pretty easily!! i would highly suggest it, ENJOY

The night is all a haze of lights, fear, and desperation. That’s all it is.

One moment it is all vibrancy and a cheering, an adoring crowd, and the next, it’s over. It’s over, and she’s happy that they loved her. She’s happy that her comeback is so well-received, and that nothing bad happens like her last concert. She’s happy that the crowd files out peacefully. The band packs up their instruments, and she goes backstage to where her fiance is waiting for her. He has a bouquet of flowers and kisses her, tells her she did so good, and says that he’s going to get her that cake from the bakery that she really loves as a reward.

And then the next moment, just as they’re leaving, is figures crawling out of the shadows of the curtains, jabbering nonsense she doesn’t understand—Camerata, higher purposes, when everything changes nothing changes—and it’s chaos. There’s scarcely a moment to process all of it, the fact that there is a face in the group that speaks of betrayal, before they attack her.

She throws her arms out, horror screaming in the pits of her being, and it only grows stronger when he lunges in front of her.

She hears the blade run him through.

* * *

Tatiana gasps as she wanders the streets, frantically looking about. It’s cold. It’s bitterly cold. Her performance dress is thin and made for glitz and glam, not the outside. She’s terrified, chilly, and she can’t raise her voice for help. She tried shouting before, and nothing came out. Nothing at all beyond a bare squeak. Even though she wishes she could cry out for Zeke and sob, utterly terrified, she can’t. She hasn’t a clue as to where her fiance has gotten off to.

She thinks, after taking that lance in the gut, he’s gone.

Tatiana sniffles and keeps shuffling along, tripping over the skirt of her gown. There’s a terminal ahead that she can maybe use to call for help. She has to get to safety—assuming that safety exists anymore. How is she supposed to tell how deeply the Camerata are embedded in Rigel? Perhaps, if she calls officials or administrators, they’ll just ship her off to them so they can finish the job.

The streets are disturbingly empty, but right now, she doesn’t pay that much mind. The terminal is just ahead of her. Her heels click against the stone as she keeps walking towards it, and even though it looks and feels a million miles away, it actually only takes a few more seconds to get there. In the back of her mind, she hears something faint, like a murmur. A hushed “I’m over here…” that she doesn’t think to pay attention to. She’s too frantic, too desperate, too busy hoping that Zeke is somehow alive somewhere.

The terminal screen opens up for her, emanating light as it displays a message about a survey. A survey for a bridge. Vaguely, Tatiana remembers excitedly chatting about voting for the bridge, maybe a week ago, but now it feels like it was an entire millenia. She doesn’t read the pitch now, instead pulling a shaking hand from her arm to punch in a single word in the comments section.

**H E L P**

Her fingers tremble as she types it, and she barely manages to. But, she finishes, posts the comment, and the screen shuts. The dim glow it gave off is gone, and the streets feel frighteningly empty and quiet and dark once more. Again, she shivers, holds herself, and keeps walking down the street in hopes that she sees somebody, anybody. Why isn’t there somebody, like there always is? Why is everything so empty?

The voice in the back of her mind, with every step she takes, seems to get stronger. She huffs and pants, looking around for somebody, but there is no one. Only the voice in the back of her mind, the low hum, and it frightens her. She can barely make out what it is saying (“Where… How? No…”), but she can tell it is a man. Tatiana doesn’t know if it’s her mind coming up with things, or if it’s some side effect of whatever has stolen her ability to speak.

She’s scared. She’s all alone, without her loyal bodyguard—the constant in her life—at her side to protect her, and she’s scared.

She’s scared.

She’s-

_Where is she?_

Tatiana freezes, a gasp in her throat as she snaps her head around.

_Where… What if she’s hurt? If she’s hurt, I’ll-! I’ll what…_

Faster, she hurries down the street. She stumbles on her skirt, ripping the hem, but just picks it up and keeps on going. He is still murmuring in her mind, a slight panic in his voice. He murmurs her name over and over, and desperately, she wishes she could repeat his right back to him. She can’t, but she notices that his voice gets stronger the more she walks down the street. Ahead, she starts to see a vague shape—an odd cluster of white blocks, and against it, there is a large body propped up. She gasps and pauses to throw off her heels, and she runs with her skirt hiked up.

_Hey! Is- Tatiana, is that you? I’m over here!_

I know, she wants to shout, I’m coming, but only a small squeak leaves her throat. She wants to scream when she gets close to the body and paces in front of it, staring at the wreckage, but nothing leaves her. She’s frustrated, devastated, wants to express something, but all she can do is stare blankly. There’s no blood, shockingly enough. She supposes that all of that is still at the scene of the crime. She doesn’t know how he got here, how she got here. She doesn’t-

_Tatiana? Say something, will you? Please, darling, I’m-_

She drops to her knees in front of his body, trembling as she reaches for him. He’s pale, head lolling. The great, massive spear sticking out of his body is black as the night and flickering with light, a red gem in its center rolling about in place and staring at her. For a moment, she pays it no mind. Tatiana bites her lip, holding back tears, and cups his face in her hands. He’s so limp and lifeless, so _cold,_ that she wants to scream. Once more, his voice begs her to say something, anything. She squeezes his face and shakes her head as a few tears slip out.

 _Oh._ The voice is coming from the spear, and she stares at it while it flickers and emanates his precious voice. _Oh, no. They took it. Beloved, I’m so… I couldn’t stop them._

“You did enough” is what she wants to say.

 _I don’t know what happened,_ he says. _I just- I wasn’t thinking. I leapt in front, and suddenly… I’m here. You’re there._

I know, she wants to tell him, I know. Instead, she just puts her hands on the lance, studying his body, and then starts to yank it out. He protests lightly for a moment, but the weapon comes out easily, and no blood rushes after it. The body just slumps a little further, if anything. There’s a gaping gash in his abdomen that brings tears to her eyes, so she doesn’t look at it. Shaking, she turns, and grunts as the lance’s weight gets to her. She drops the head to the ground, letting it drag along as she observes it.

It’s big, taller than him, and mildly heavy. It’s pitch black, detailed with gold, and a long red ribbon drapes from its hilt. In its center is a glowing red gem, and it blinks whenever she hears his voice in her mind. It almost looks like an eye, the way it roams about. It unnerves her, but she doesn’t have time to be picky about how it makes her feel.

_Tatiana! Listen to me. I want you to not panic, and to slowly turn around. Can you do that, precious?_

She does what he says. Slowly, slowly she turns, and she already knows something isn’t right based on the scuttling sound racing towards her. When she turns all the way, she jumps at the sight of something white moving towards her in a hurry. It looks metal, with a red gem in its center similar to the one on the lance in her hands. However, this one shines with malice, and it doesn’t look at all friendly.

_Tatiana!_

Without thinking, Tatiana grips the weapon firmly, shuts her eyes, and swings the lance. It crashes straight into the thing that is moving towards her, ripping it in half. Machine parts fly out of it, and then… they vanish. White cylinders pop up where the pieces once were, and as Tatiana moves hesitantly towards them, the lance seems to pick them up and absorb their essence.

She’s frozen, baffled by what has just happened.

 _Process,_ his voice says, and he sounds equally confused. _That’s what they’re called. I see how you’re looking at me; don’t you ask me how I know. They’re clearly aggressive. We’re going to have to fight our way out of here._

Anxiously, Tatiana holds the lance up, observing how it flickers and gleams before she drops it back down to the ground. It’s too heavy for her to carry; she’ll have to drag it.

 _Take my coat,_ he says again, and she looks to his body where his signature black-and-red greatcoat is hanging off of his figure. _It’s chilly tonight, and I don’t want you to catch a cold._

He speaks so casually that it’s charming. It’s like she’s going out for an evening walk and he’s reminding her to bundle up. It doesn’t sound at all like she’s off to fight her way to an answer for all this mess.

Tatiana sets the lance down and trembles as she moves his body, pulling his limp arms out of the coat. Gently, she gets him out of it, and carefully, she lays him back against the white blocks. Once more, she cups his cheek, silently grieving how completely dead he looks, all because of her. Perhaps if she had moved faster instead of throwing her arms in front of herself like an idiot, this wouldn’t have happened. Maybe they could’ve ran. Maybe they would both be safe, instead of a lady without a voice and a man without a body.

She gets up and grabs the skirt of her dress, grits her teeth, and uses all her strength to tear through it. The rip echoes through the empty streets, and soon enough, she’s torn it at the thigh and abandoned the extra fabric. Good for performing, she supposes, but not good for running. If she ever gets the chance, she’ll apologize to its designer for disrespecting it so horrendously.

 _Tatiana,_ he says as she throws his coat on. It settles on her shoulders, warm and heavy, like his hands when he comes up from behind and holds her. _I know this is frightening._

She smooths down the lapels and picks the lance back up.

 _And I do hate to be negative, my sweet, but-_ He pauses, and then speaks up again when she starts walking, dragging the lance along behind her. _We’re not going to get away with this, are we?_

Tatiana doesn’t know.


End file.
